Taken to Flight
by MeghanJinx
Summary: Goodness, how long has it been? Six months? I dunno. :) This is sorta weird, but it begged to be written. Tobias is flying when he sees a girl sketching. She reminds him of all the things he tried to forget... like how much he'd like to be human again som


Taken to Flight

By: Meghan~Jinx

Authors note: I know. It's been a long time. I just had to take a break… but I'm back! :D

The sounds of a summer afternoon were all around me. Crickets. The hum. The lull of the closing day.

The sun was a brilliant ball of orange in the west, daring to sink past the silhouetted horizon and bring on the sheet of darkness that was night.

Sorry. I've been in a deep mood lately. I guess that's the poet in me. I guess I've always been a poet. You know, the quiet, silent boy that always seemed to be in his 'zone.' And no one paid attention too.

But when he was gone, they wished they had.

Me. A poet. Scoff if you must. I mean, how am I supposed to write? With my talons? Don't worry, I think the exact same thing.

__

Slam!

The backdoor of the house I was sitting near crashed terrifically, snatching me out of my thoughts with almost an instant.

I wasn't that close to the house, mind you. Earlier, I'd spotted food. Yes, a mouse. I've grown accustomed to the taste now. Delicious really.

I'd sigh here. Listen to me. It's disgusting, I know. But it's …me.

I'd crashed here, outside this small house. Nothing special. Like me, I suppose. Maybe that's why it appealed to my human nature. A plain little residence that I always wished I'd have.

And that's the daydreamer in me.

And now, I watched a girl—the one who had slammed the door so violently—cross the grass, barefooted, grass between her toes. Behind her ear was a pencil, under her arm was a sketchpad.

She set herself down before my tree. She pursed her lips, and squinted in the sun as she scanned the gorgeous sky. She frowned at the few clouds that crowded the sky. White, fluffy, cumulus. No threat.

She drew her knees to her chin and stared out onto her yard. Still frowning at the clouds, as though she wanted to just blow them out of the sky.

She reminded me of, well, _me_. Young, thoughtful, her thoughts clouded by the smallest things that she felt unnecessary to her project.

That's how I always was. I'd sit under the trees during the summer, and be _so_ glad that I was out of school. It was always so restrictive. That's what I don't miss—but at the same time I do miss.

And I'd stare up at the sky, and wonder, _what's flying like?_ And I always wished I could just fly into the clouds.

The girl leaned over her pad and began to sketch quickly, glancing upwards.

Maybe she was trying to form an idea. Maybe that's why she was frowning.

I leaned forward, and looked. But, I couldn't tell what she was drawing. Her back was arched against my view. I shifted. Still, nothing.

She continued. I settled back down. Out of plain curiosity, I wished I knew what she was drawing.

And that's the human in me.

She stretched her legs in the grass, and hopped up, leaving her paper on the grass, out the sun's way, the shade of the huge tree shadowing it.

She bounced across the yard and into the house. Watching her for a moment, I paused, then flew down to perch on the ground next to her work.

I stared at it for a moment before my brain registered what it was.

It was me.

Well, not _me_, but the hawk me. Perched in the tree. She had been sketching me. My intense eyes bore into the paper until I feared I'd burn it.

That picture, frozen in paper and charcoal, was my life now.

A small click made me break my concentration. 

It was the girl. Walking back. In her hand was a lemonade in a tall, tall glass, frosty dew from the temperature of the glass colliding with the warm air running down the sides. I learned about that in science class. But that was so long ago.

She stopped; her mouth let out an audible gasp as it formed a small _o_ of surprise, her eyes widening and her hands almost losing their grip.

We stood like that for a moment, both bird and girl too surprised to move. 

She shook her head slightly before whispering, "How I envy you, hawk… you own the sky. So what's flying like?" She sighed. "Birds like you are so lucky. You can just take to flight. Like I…like I wish I could."

She reached out with a quivering hand to touch me. She was confident. I hadn't flown away yet. 

But as her fingers reached me, I drew back in sudden shock. Then I ruffled my feathers sullenly, and flew back to my familiar perch in the oak.

And that was the hawk in me.

"_You can just take to flight. Like I…like I wish I could_." Her words swirled around and around in my memory. 

Yes, she was like me. A dreamer. I'd always dreamed of flying also.

And that's why my life now is so ironic. I'd gotten my dream, unlike most people, and hated it. Some days, when the thermals are right, I feel it's the best thing. But on days like this, I yearn to be like the girl. Human again. 

That's right. I'd gotten my wish. And there's no taking it back now.

I've spread my wings… and taken to flight.


End file.
